


In The Spring

by im_an_amazingdan_fan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-21 13:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7389217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_an_amazingdan_fan/pseuds/im_an_amazingdan_fan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is full of corrupt beauty and false hope, but Dan and Phil find love through pain. the finally settle for a simple life, but it can never be what it seems. Dan travels through his life feeling like a stranger, but Phil becomes his saviour and gives Dan back the life he never knew he had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Spring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Carryonmywaywardlester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carryonmywaywardlester/gifts).



> This story is gifted to a wonderful woman, who has been simply amazing and super supportive. She's extremely kind and an absolutely amazing writer. although going through a little bit of a tough time with writing recently, she is one of the best writers I know. 
> 
> She gifted me a story which was one of the most unique and fantastic stories i have ever read. She is so creative and absolutely brilliant.
> 
> This is for my good friend, clairebear1982.

In the spring, blossom would bloom in its early pre glory. So young.

As a child, there was nothing I could do about how I felt. When I was younger I suppose I never really got it, but there was going to be a day where everything would change, I wouldn’t be the same person again.  
The rain poured on the dreary, late spring morning, and I ran. I wasn’t typically fit as a 13-year-old, but as the bus trundled off heavily in the distance, I knew I would have no choice but to run if I was ever going to make it to school. Not that I cared. Only that an hour detention was an hour extra in that hell hole.  
The rain was heavy, masking the thundery dark clouds above. They cast a misty aura across the street surrounded by dull red brick houses leading down the letter strewn road covered in puddles. My greying blazer was hanging helplessly sodden over my flopping hair, which I cursed as it was inevitable that it would curl. Like swimming pools of their own, my shoes which were known to be as holy as the church as they squelched through the river-like puddles.   
It was obviously clear I was unfit. Chest heaving, legs like jelly, the school site was in finally in front of me, and luckily the bell was just ringing in the distance. The black fencing reminded me of an old abandoned prison as I approached, including the teachers standing ‘guard’ at the gate with umbrellas and hot drinks. The pathway was deserted but I made my way forward.  
I was nearing the flooded entrance when I noticed a black car glide effortlessly to a stop. Knowing the area, I was fairly sure that the best car you were going to find was a stolen ford focus, and nothing more. Yet here, was this masterpiece of a car, its bumper sleek and unmarked, rain glistening in its glory. The door opening slowly, and out stepped a boy.  
With sandy swept hair, and eyes as grey as the clouds, his held his masculine arms to his face as he felt the rain pour heavily. His uniform looked tailored, only complementing the figure which had never been so important before. Teachers instantly rain to his aid as if he was some prize jewel.  
“Mr. Howell, get inside before you freeze!” shouted Mr. Jackson from his hood as he passed and looked at me rather concerned. I snapped out of my trance, shook my head in disbelief, and jogged rather unsteadily into school.  
Since that day, I had felt so different. I didn’t feel like me. It was very difficult to describe. It was just as if I had known myself my whole life, but suddenly I didn’t know myself, and I was just this person, this stranger. It took me many years to fully come to terms with who I was, and I certainly never told the new kid about it either – seemed he and the most popular girl made a day out of each other.   
As few years passed, I still struggled to know myself. I questioned every action, every feeling I had because I wouldn’t know what to expect of myself. The feelings I felt towards the new kid were certainly a game changer, but I hadn’t since had that feeling for anyone. There were days where I felt immensely confused; how could I be like this, but only for one person?   
A day flooded in when I built the courage to meet the person who would change my life. It wasn’t that difficult either, as we spoke online most of the time. AmazingPhil was his name, and he made videos that were the reason everything would change for me. Even from the first message, I was taken, and I nor he had any control over it. As I sat in my room one fateful night, my walls plastered in bands and my camera balanced, I clicked on a video which had me at my knees.  
His face, so perfect, so angelic. The hair on his head took me by surprise as it put me to shame knowing it suited him much better than I. his voice, something made of silk that made every part of me fall to pieces. And his eyes! His eyes were amazing. I had not felt this way in many years.   
I learnt who I was again.

In the summer, the sun glowed beautiful in the sky, glazing upon the colourful nature around us.

Phil. Was. Amazing.  
From his icy blue eyes to his contagiously drug-like laugh, there was not a single reason I could hate this gem of a human being.   
We had known each other for a while, and from university to Manchester, we began to develop into everything I wanted.   
“So are we going to go in, or stand here and inhale the coffee until they charge us” jeered Phil, bouncing on his heels, wearing a new sponge yellow shirt with the oddest combination of black jeans and red shoes. I had fallen in love with a rainbow, for Christ’s sake.  
For the final time before the big move, we were taking ourselves away to our own quiet place at the lesser known vintage café in a tiny cobbled street of shadowing houses and tightly parked cars. There were few people walking here alongside the off brand t-shirt shop and convenience store. The red door in front of us was propped open with a heavy ornament cat which I had kicked in many occasions. We entered into the stifling café and were greeted by the friendliest face. The lady who had worked here since I had found this place many years back showed us through the doors into a small secluded garden where we sat alone.  
The small speaker played Truce by Twenty One Pilots.  
This was the moment.   
Once again I knew my life would change, but I had spent so long building the courage, and I planned to tell him after we moved, but I couldn’t hold it anymore.  
I told him everything. I told him about the day I realised I wasn’t quite who I thought I was. That I felt something that I couldn’t comprehend for a long time, and that this feeling was back and I was happy for. I told him how much I loved him. How much he really meant to me.   
For a moment, his eyes remained still, his face set in stone.  
But finally, his face broke out in a teary smile as he threw his arms around me, crying tears of happiness which I returned to his shoulder as we embraced and welcomed the new found relationship which was something unique, something different. We became one.  
I suppose the news never really hit me that Phil actually liked me back. It was as if I had dreamt the moment. Maybe it was because so suddenly we were moving to London to live in a bigger flat, a new home was in action, and we became the secret couple who were inseparable everywhere.  
Years did pass, and our jobs became the highlight if our lives. A book, a radio show, recently finishing a tour around the USA; everything seemed complete.  
But I knew that nothing was complete until his arms were around me at the end of the day. We would stand together in front of the burning fire as his arms wrapped tightly around me, my body spreading with his warmth.  
“You are my world” he would whisper one night as we sat down, and I fell to sleep in his arms.

In the autumn, crisp winds would bite, and the falling leaf would start to wither.

Phil and I would spend a lot of time together, but we hardly ever slept in the same room. I wasn’t sure why, but we were somewhat both happy with our own space. The air to think, a place to be our own. It didn’t mean we were unhappy in any way, just I liked my own place to be   
Every morning, I would hear the quiet knock on the door which I usually waited for, and as the door creaked open, I pulled the duvet above my face and groaned loudly as he laughed, pulling up the blinds, and hummed loudly. This was somehow my life finally, where we didn’t have to talk to know each other. Where everything ran smoothly as life passed us by and we loved each other unconditionally.   
We didn’t like change. It felt unnatural, even unbalanced, to have life be different every day. Phil felt insecure, and I would feel sick, so our lives would have to be the same. We liked it that way.  
That was until one morning where change was inevitable.   
The door swung open like usually, but I didn’t move, I didn’t make a sound.   
“Morning sleepy” he mumbled through his own tired mask.  
Phil hadn’t noticed for a few moments.   
He sat on the edge my bed, gently shaking my shoulder to wake me up. His touch felt like razors and my stomach turned heavily. I groaned in pain as I held my stomach and he jumped up.  
Before I knew it, Phil was back. A bucket placed at the side of the bed and a cold cloth against my forehead, he resumed his seat next to me. I was hot. Then I was cold. A sweat glazed me which I couldn’t wipe away as he stroked my damp hair out my eyes.   
Phil’s hands were like gold to me, as they soothed me and relaxed me when my body quivered and strained. They held me as I vomited heavily into the bucket, and he cooed gently words as I slumped against the twisted sheets, completely drained.  
“It’s okay, it’s all over now. You feel better, I promise. I’m here” he clenched my hand as I slipped in and out of consciousness, my stomach churning and my head swimming. I squeezed his cool hand, and fell to sleep.  
Phil was wrong. I didn’t feel better. Days passed and I couldn’t find the strength to move from my own bed. Eating was out the question, as I was throwing up before I even thought about food. Phil even had to carry me to the living room just so I could feel more comfortable, and give me more water than I could handle.  
One week later, I fell to my knees, and threw up like usual. Except this wasn’t like usual. I travelled to hospital, blood beginning to dry around my lips and in my mouth.   
Lights flashed by, and faces were too blurred to be recognisable. Only vague silhouettes passed me by when I could muster the strength to open my eyes. It was loud, and then very quiet. I felt hands on my arms, hands on my chest, moving me and scaring me. It all happened at once, and I was laying in hospital, Phil at my side.  
There were many tubes and wires around me, and I was scared to move. I could feel the outline of a mask on my face, blowing cool air into me as I tried not to hold my breath in fear. My chest hurt like hell, as if I had broken all of my ribs, and my stomach seared like a wild fire. My head lolled to the side as I moved my mouth to speak to Phil, who had not yet noticed I was awake. He was looking at his hands blankly.   
Phil heard my failed attempt at talking and placed his hand on mine, smiling gently.  
I could see it in his eyes; he was scared too.   
He stopped me when I tried to pull of the mask, and when I started to move. Although we didn’t talk, he was so caring, so loving. And he didn’t have to say a word.

In the winter, life would cease to exist, its cruel, harsh spells; the killer of love

In the weeks to come, we would find out that it was too late. Scans, x-rays, ultrasounds. They would try everything, but find nothing.   
Phil was the only existence that would give me hope. Like he always would, he brought in fun things he bought from the in-hospital shop, make jokes about anything he could see, and just be the fun, lovable person he was. My fun, lovable person. My Phil.  
I couldn’t move myself anymore, and time would tell that my arms and legs became too weak, my neck too heavy, and I would lay motionless. I could barely muster a word. But I could smile. I could smile because Phil reminded me how to every time he walked into the room.  
Finally, we found that my days were numbered. Cancerous and damaged beyond any means of repair, my body was failing me by the second, and we began to make the most of every day.   
It was a dark day today, and the blinds let in the dull daylight with the sounds of pattering rain. Thunder rolled in the distance as lightning struck.  
Today I was struggling.  
Phil had pretty much moved in with me here, his bed a chair draped in a blanket he brought from home – my favourite blanket, covered in lions and llamas.   
Right now, he held my hand tightly, while his head was face down on my bed, sitting in his chair. I knew he wasn’t asleep. It was now or never.  
I squeezed his hand as hard as I could as I was very weak. He looked up at me, his eyes red, smiling. He slowly reached for the mask on my face with his free hand, and shuffled close.  
“What is it? Are you in pain, Danny?” I nodded my head slowly, and closed my eyes. The tears fell down my cheeks. I felt his hand wipe them away and kiss my forehead, and I opened my eyes.  
In my left hand, I held something special. Something I knew I would have to give him. A last part of me. Something he could hold when he felt down.  
I looked at him in the eyes. They were the same beautiful shade of blue that I fell in love with many years ago. Bright and stunning, reflective of his personality. The most unique and perfect. I savoured his eyes, for I felt I could not live without them.  
With great difficulty, I lifted my arm, knowing it moved only a little. He noticed, and reached over, lifting my arm higher, looking puzzled. I opened my hand.  
There sat a miniature trinket box, shining silver and in great detail. On the top, I remembered the words that were engraved there:  
To Phil  
Here is a little piece of me, so you will never have to let me go. You will never be without a part of me  
Love from Dan x  
His eyes filled with tears, he opened the top of the box, and it began to play a beautiful tune that we both knew. It played the melody from Truce by Twenty One Pilots. It sounded like one of those wind up musical jewellery boxes, playing a tune close to the heart. Inside the box was a music stand that raised a picture of me and him, arms around each other and smiling. The best memory of us I could remember.   
Phil’s face was struck with pain and sadness all at once, and he broke down, curling on the edge of the bed and placing his head on my shoulder. I moved my head slowly, and kissed him gently on the forehead. He looked up, his eyes swollen and strained.   
“I love you… forever… I promise” my voice was a whisper, hardly strong enough to be heard.  
I looked straight into his eyes. His perfect, ageless eyes.   
He held my hand tightly, but I started to lose the sense of touch.   
Tears began to fall from my eyes, but I smiled all the same. He moved to the edge of the bed, kneeling with my hand pressed against his forehead.   
“Phil” I said.  
He looked up.  
“Never forget me…”  
My eyes felt too heavy, my arms weighing down. The world began to feel dark. I knew I was going.   
I knew it was my time.  
Phil was looking at me. He was talking, his face frightened. He was holding my hand, and I could vaguely feel his touch. I couldn’t hear what it was saying, but he knew too. He knew that I was going. He didn’t want me to go.  
But I couldn’t stay.   
The last thing I looked at, was Phil’s eyes. The forget me not blue, the beautiful shape. The one part of Phil I loved the most. They were magnificent. They were unique. And I never wanted to forget them. They were all that mattered to me. They meant so much, because they reminded me of the times we spent together. Our lives lived through his eyes. Everything we ever loved. Including each other.  
Phil was the most caring, most loving person who ever existed. He was amazing. He was beautiful. He was magnificent, unique and flawless all at the same time.

He was my Phil, my beautiful Phil. 

My everything.

I spoke my final words, my eyes sliding shut peacefully.

“I love you, Phil”


End file.
